


All Our Scribbled Love Dreams

by sperrywink



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sperrywink/pseuds/sperrywink
Summary: Pete and Patrick in the back of the van to the soundtrack of Tom Waits in Patrick's headphones.





	All Our Scribbled Love Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkrosaleen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/gifts).



> I put together a playlist of Tom Waits songs Patrick listens to. It's on Mediafire as a zip file:
> 
>  
> 
> [All Our Scribbled Love Dreams](http://www.mediafire.com/file/1va7r9pz86nrj1a/all_out_scribbled_love_dreams.zip/file)

Patrick was getting used to the other guys in Fall Out Boy. At this point they had been together for nine months, and had toured the summer in a crappy van whose heat had to be on to avoid overheating the engine. It was too hot and a casual brush of a bare arm was seen as a vicious attack as they sweated through towns throughout the East Coast and Midwest.

It was weird being on his own in close quarters with three friends, particularly new friends. Joe was chill, and Patrick felt the closest to him. Andy was hyper-charged and intense, while Pete was just something else. He often felt like a fraud being in the band. Not because he didn’t think he was talented enough, just because he didn’t feel extroverted enough to fit in with the other guys. He often retreated into his headphones and iPod instead of joking with them. He felt bad about it, but he needed some privacy and alone time.

They had parted ways for the new semester of university, Pete’s ninth or something crazy like that. Pete admitted he focused so much on music, his studies suffered. So, no surprise, but it was under Pete’s urging they got together to rehearse and play local gigs as often as possible, meaning Patrick’s life was still chaotic.

Pete and their manager organized a midwinter break tour of Wisconsin, Illinois, and Michigan. Patrick had to convince his parents they would not be freezing to death in the van, although he wasn’t 100% sure of that himself. At least he knew the van’s heat worked and would be blasting the whole time. The summer had proven that. His parents should have worried more about him getting heat stroke.

So, after finally convincing his parents that he could go, Patrick packed a backpack and a duffel, and hopped into the van with the others. They were first heading around Michigan, and then into Wisconsin over Christmas.

The first couple of days were hectic, and Patrick barely had time to breathe, but when they started making the longer drive to Wisconsin, Patrick huddled in the back seat with his headphones on. He was so tired after their fifth consecutive night playing, and he hoped he got some sleep because it would be his turn to drive in the morning. Joe and Andy were driving at the moment. 

He was listening to Tom Waits loud. Originally Pete had curled up in the other corner of the back seat, but after they stopped at a convenience store for gas and drinks, and the car cooled in the cold December air, Pete started shaking a bit. He had gone out in just a hoodie. Not really wanting to talk to anyone, but feeling bad for Pete, Patrick, lifted the end of the sleeping bag he was huddled under in invitation.

At the movement, Pete looked over and gave him a beaming smile. Throwing himself across the bench seat, Pete tackled him gently. Or as gently as Pete ever did anything. As Pete started burrowing under the sleeping bag, Patrick fumbled his iPod trying to keep it safe and keep the headphones wire from strangling either of them.

Before he knew it and under startled protest, Pete had pushed and pulled until both he and Patrick were lying on the bench seat and snuggled under the sleeping bag. Pete’s hands were frozen points of contact, one at his waist under his sweater and one on his neck. Tom Waits was crooning in his ears about feeling just like Cagney.

Pete sniffled against his neck, and then went boneless.

Patrick had never been so… intimately settled with another guy before. He told himself Pete was just cold and Pete was being Pete, but it still took another two songs before he relaxed completely. He let Tom Waits’ voice and the horn section on the tracks lull him into a half-slumber. As the current album **Small Change** cycled to the next on the playlist, **Closing Time** , Patrick closed his eyes and let the music sweep him away.

Patrick woke with a startled moan and opened his eyes. Both Pete and Patrick had shifted in however long it had been, and they were now lying along the bench seat facing each other and pressed together, their dicks in intimate contact, which explained the sex dream Patrick was abruptly woken from. Tom Waits was still singing in his ear, but now it was the swinging piano of _New Coat of Paint_. As the piano did minor crescendos in his ear, it was all he could do to not twitch his hips into the inviting pressure of Pete’s crotch.

Pete’s dark eyes were fathomless in the streetlight gloom of the van, and Patrick just blinked his eyes rapidly to try and wake the fuck up, and calm his dick the fuck down. And then _Pete’s_ hips twitched into his, and Pete was kissing him. It was soft and tentative in a way Pete never was, and the shock of that rather than the kiss itself made Patrick freeze up. Pete pulled back and looked regretful. Patrick was breathing hard now and he knew his eyes were like saucers. But before words could spill out of Pete the way they obviously were about to, not that Patrick would hear him over the music, Patrick hurried up and kissed him in return, letting his hips finally push into the pressure of Pete’s the way they wanted.

Pete licked into his mouth tasting like stale Doritos, and Tom was singing “Love needs a transfusion, let’s shoot it through with wine,” and the piano was building and building in the song, and Pete’s hips felt delicious moving against his, and Patrick knew he would be coming in his pants in ridiculously short order, but he didn’t care. The music was pushing him closer and closer to the edge, and knowing that it was Pete that he was with just made it hotter. Pete who was older and edgier, and goofy and so smart. He was like all of Patrick’s musical and sexual fantasies rolled into one package, and here he was kissing Patrick.

And then the closing bars of the song slowed down his ardor, but he had put the songs on his playlist out of order, so he knew the roaring melody of _Fumblin’ with the Blues_ came on next, and as it started, it was Patrick who was hungrily licking into Pete’s mouth and grabbing hold of his hip to bring them closer together.

It was all frantic and sweaty movements, with occasional cold blasts creeping in under the moving sleeping bag. Patrick knew Joe and Andy were right there, but they felt oceans away from where he was mentally. He didn’t even know if they knew what was going on, with his headphones in he couldn’t even hear Pete let alone anything else going on in the van. His world was all Pete’s mouth, Pete’s hips, and Tom Waits’ whaling voice and piano in his ear. 

And then as Tom Waits repeatedly sang, “whisper, tell me I’m the one,” he was coming like a freight train and shaking in Pete’s arms. Pete was biting at his jaw, and it felt like he said some words that Patrick couldn’t hear, but Pete’s hips didn’t even stutter as he chased his own orgasm. As Patrick drifted back into consciousness from the high of coming, Pete finally came and ground his hips hard into Patrick’s, making Patrick hiss at the over-stimulation, and press of his jean’s zipper into his softening cock.

Pete breathed heavily into Patrick’s jaw for long minutes, long enough for Patrick to start freaking out about orgasming with Joe and Andy less than two feet away in the van. What was he thinking? What was Pete thinking? What were Joe and Andy thinking?

Before he could start hyperventilating, Pete looked up with a beaming smile and a caressing kiss to Patrick’s lips. Tom Waits was now singing, “If this is love we’re crazy cause we fight like cats and dogs,” which was so true! What were they thinking? And then Pete tenderly reached up to touch Patrick on the nose, for whatever weird Pete reasons he had, and then started talking, which Patrick couldn’t hear a word of, considering Tom was still crooning in his ear. He frowned and shook his head, and tried to free his hands to remove his headphones. He had no idea where his iPod had gotten to.

Pete frowned back at him, but then laughed quietly when Patrick finally got his headphones off. He asked, “You didn’t hear a word of that, huh?”

Pete was talking in a normal tone of voice, and Patrick couldn’t stop himself from shushing him, and shooting a furtive look over to the front of the van, where he could just make out Joe’s profile in the passenger seat.

Pete looked over his shoulder, and then had the audacity to laugh as he admitted (in a normal tone of voice again), “Joe and Andy have already mocked us big time. You missed it.”

Joe boomed his voice towards them and said, “We sure did! But don’t worry, I’m sure the mocking will continue the rest of the tour. Unless of course you continue getting your rocks off in the van, and then we might be having words instead.”

Patrick facepalmed. “Oh my god,” he muttered in mortification. His jeans were now cooled enough to be uncomfortable, Pete was laughing with Joe and he just did not know how to deal. Pete then turned back to him, and catching the look on his face, his face softened into understanding and affection. He pulled the sleeping bag over their heads, and whispered, “Hey, it’s okay.”

Hissing back, Patrick said, “It’s really not. We had sex in the van!”

Pete hummed and a wicked grin spread over his face as he waggled his eyebrows. His serious tone was in contradiction to his attitude, though, as he said, “Yeah, and Andy and Joe will mock us, but that’s it. They’re good guys. Nothing more serious than that will happen.”

Patrick gave him a look of stunned disbelief. “I know that! I know they’re not homophobic, but I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe you’re not. Actually, I can, but it still boggles my mind.”

Pete gave a self-conscious chuckle. “I might still be riding the high of orgasming, to be perfectly honest. Hottest sex I’ve had in forever.” He squeezed Patrick’s sides. And Patrick realized he was totally killing Pete’s buzz, but he didn’t know how to stop now that he was aware of everything going on in the van, and wasn’t lost in his own sex-happy, Tom Waits world.

And then the van was turning and slowing down, and both Pete and Patrick popped their heads out of the sleeping bag. Joe was turned back to them with a shit-eating grin, and said, “We need gas, and you guys definitely need a change of pants before the van smells like spunk. Everyone out of the van!”

Patrick moaned, but was secretly glad Joe had taken the awkwardness out of going straight to the bathroom to change pants.

The van came to a stop, and everyone exited, Joe clapping Patrick on the back with a whispered, “Lucky dog, I wish I could get off right now,” and Andy pushing Pete’s shoulder with his own knowing grin. Pete and Patrick peeled off towards the restrooms with their backpacks, while Andy filled the tank and Joe went to the convenience store.

After changing as rapidly as possible in the cold restroom and cleaning off the cold spunk (and not letting Pete get a look at his dick as he obviously wanted, even though Patrick was curious too), Patrick hurried Pete into the convenience store. Joe was already at the register paying for a Redbull and some skittles, so Patrick split off from Pete to get some Gatorade and water.

When he made his way back to the front, Pete was there with another bag of Doritos. Frowning, Patrick looked at the display of buttered rolls and fruit to the left of Pete. He said, “Uh, no,” and took the Doritos from Pete’s hands and put a buttered roll and an apple in his hand instead, also taking ones for himself. He continued with, “You can’t live on Doritos alone.” He felt oddly protective of Pete now.

Pete pouted and said, “I could,” but didn’t try to trade the apple back for the Doritos, so Patrick considered it a win. They paid and went back to the van, which Andy and Joe were waiting against, with the doors all wide open. Pete rubbed his apple on his shirt, and exclaimed, “Oh come on! The smell wasn’t that bad!”

Patrick just facepalmed again. He peeked over at Pete who was grinning unrepentedly, and started laughing. It may only have been a year, but he really loved these guys.


End file.
